Snack Time
by AustenAddictsAnonymous
Summary: In which the Doctor faces an angry Craig, and Craig faces the prospect of an angry Stormageddon.  Not slash.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, _The Three Musketeers_, or a Steampunk-inspired airship. All of these things are, however, on my Christmas list, so feel free to spread some Holiday Cheer my way.**

**A/N: For the purposes of this story, the 3 Musketeers actually existed, and are not just figments of Alexandre Dumas' imagination. If you haven't seen the new _Three Musketeers _movie, just know that James Corden (Craig) plays the musketeers long-suffering manservant Planchet. Oh. And also, there are huge airships with machine gun cannons. Okay? Enjoy!̄**

**A/N 2: Craig's words are in regular text. The Doctor's words (or Craig quoting the Doctor) are in italics.**

**Snack Time**

Craig couldn't find the bear biscuits. This was a problem. Alfie would be up from his nap any minute and the 3-year-old wouldn't be happy if he didn't have his favorite snack. In fact, he would probably throw a tantrum worthy of the title _Dark Lord of All_. Craig sighed; his son might be cutting him more slack these days, but he drew the line at tolerating missing sweets.

Craig was desperately rummaging through the cabinet once more when the doorbell rang. Grateful for a distraction from his impending doom, Craig crossed the kitchen and opened the door. Standing on his doorstep was the flop-haired, bow-tied, tweed-clad, disaster of gangly limbs known the Universe over as The Doctor.

"_Hello, Craig!"_ the Doctor exclaimed, wide grin straining his face. _"I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd…"_

SLAM! The Doctor stared at the closed front door in confusion. This was new. Craig was usually much more accommodating. Why, the Doctor had even rung the bell and everything. Shrugging, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver. Fortunately, the door to the Owens' household was made of aluminum.

The Doctor swung the door open and swaggered after Craig, who was now scouring the depths of the pantry.

"_Well now, Craig. That was rather rude! I don't usually pop by for visits you know; you should be more appreciative," _

Craig spun around to face the admonishing TimeLord. "Appreciative! Do you remember last time you 'popped' up in my life?"

"_Well,"_ the Doctor sniffed, "_I admit that got a bit out of hand. But, it all worked out in the end."_

"A bit…A _bit _out of hand?" Craig's face was turning an alarming shade of red at this point. "Forgetting for the moment the fact that you just _happened_ to uncover an infestation of hallucinogenic banana slugs at my neighborhood grocer…"

"_Poor dears; they're safe back at Villengard now. Oh, Craig! You should have _seen _last year's crop…" _

At the look on Craig's face, the Doctor decided to let him finish his little rant. Humans always felt so much better after they got things off their chest.

Craig cleared his throat in irritation. "As I was saying…Aside from that fact, remember what happened next?"

Here, Craig mimicked the Doctor as best he could, infusing his voice with every bit of smug, know-it-all-ness as he possessed.

"_Oh Craig, I'll give you a lift back to the house. I just have to make a quick stop. No, no, don't worry; we'll just pop over to Paris real quick, and we'll have you home to Sophie before she can wonder where you've got to." _

"_Yes, well, I had to know who was smuggling fruit across time periods." _Now the Doctor was a little peeved. Honestly, you try to do a favor for some people. "_And, forgive me for thinking you might enjoy a little change in scenery!" _

"You took me to Paris."

"_Yes."_

"19th Century Paris."

"Yes_; that's where my trace indicated the smuggler was headed next."_

"You took me to 19th Century Paris AND YOU LEFT ME THERE!"

The Doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably. Then, with a casual wave of his hand—

"_Yes, well, that was an accident. I got a hit on that smuggler. Had to stop him, you know. Displacing the smallest thing in time, even fruit, can have disastrous consequences. He slipped past me and I had to jump after him to the 51__st__ century. I came right back once I realized you hadn't followed me. And really, I _did_ tell you not to wander off. Why does _nobody_ ever follow that rule? And, anyway, I got it right when I brought you back, didn't I? Sophie and Alfie never knew you were gone."_

"You left me there for 2 years!"

At this point, Craig saw a flash of something cross the Doctor's face. On a normal day, it might have made him pause in his rant. But today, when he was minutes away from facing a 3-year-old Tantrum of Doom, remembering all the tantrums he could have _missed_ thanks to the Doctor's little _trip, _he did not have any patience left for the half-apologies of aliens. So, he let loose the rest of his tirade, pacing the kitchen, and trying not to notice how each accusation hit his friend like a slap in the face.

"I was alone, in Paris, in the 19th century."

"I had to get a job!"

"And a new name!"

"I was a valet for the 3 Musketeers. Which granted…okay, that was kind of cool. But they were jerks! All they did was drink."

"I had to sleep on a balcony."

"I nearly got killed by the cannons on the Duke of Buckingham's airship."

"And, after all that, they still didn't appreciate me. At least the food was pretty decent…"

Craig finally ran out of steam. Taking a deep, calming breath, he turned to face the Doctor, and was surprised to find him standing there with a bowed head.

"Doctor…"

The Doctor sighed and, it seemed to Craig at least, it was a very old man's sigh indeed.

"_Look, Craig. I'm sorry; really, I am. I've never pretended to be reliable. It's just my life, and things happen. And, I try to explain to people, but they don't understand until the Universe or me does something to force them to, and then they're angry, or sad, or hurt, or worse. And, it doesn't mean that I don't….Wait a minute. Sorry. Did you say that the Duke of Buckingham had an _**AIRSHIP**_?"_

"What?" Craig had been so shocked to hear honest conversation from the Doctor that the sudden shift threw him off balance for a second or so.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, he did. Milady stole the plans from the Musketeers so Buckingham could build it. But, then, the Musketeers stole it, or one of them I guess, and crashed it into Louis' palace. So…he has one now too."

As Craig's jumbled explanation trailed off, the Doctor just stared at him for a solid 4 seconds. And then—

"_Right," _he drew out the word, _"Well…I should probably be going. I'm sure you have things to do and I should probably…well…I just remembered a little thing I have to take care of. So...see you, Craig. Nice visit. Do it again sometime, eh?" _

And, just like that, the Doctor was back. His sloppy grin, two sloppy air kisses, a quick "_Say hello to Sophie and Alfie!" _and he was headed for the door, muttering something about the Techloverians and _"told them to keep that blasted SteamPunk off this planet…" _

Craig couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. The Doctor would never change, and it was silly to think you could get through to him about the way he travelled the Universe. Or, was it? The Timelord had stopped, and was turning back, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"_Erhm. Listen, Craig. About….before. I never would have just _left _you there. Forever, I mean. I hope you can believe that." _

And, as Craig looked at the Doctor, the time he let himself acknowledge what he had seen before. He saw so much behind those ancient eyes—regret, apology, a determination not to lose _any _of them by choice. And, in that moment, he felt a connection long since faded, one he'd been sure would require another head butt to bring back. He forgave the Doctor instantly. Of course, if he was honest, he'd never really been able to make himself all that mad in the first place. Such was the Timelord's magic. He could have told the Doctor all that. Made a speech about emotions and living and the wonder of it all, but that's not the type of guy Craig was. And, really, that's not the sort of thing the Doctor needed.

So, instead, Craig met the Doctor's eyes, and nodded.

A small smile touched the Doctor's lips, a smile for once characterized not by its brilliancy, but its honesty. He started to go again, but this time barely 2 seconds passed before he popped his head back 'round the doorway.

"_Oh! Nearly forgot. The reason I came!"_

The Doctor tossed an object Craig's way, twirled around on the tips of his toes, and swaggered out the front door.

Craig cradled the box of bear biscuits in his hands and couldn't help but let out a joyous laugh. Life was good. At the moment, he was exactly when and where he was supposed to be. Alfie was stirring in his room, and father and son would have a lovely afternoon together, now that the snack crisis was averted.

Before he headed back to his life, Craig spared one more glance at his door and gave one more thought to the Doctor. He was insane; really and truly, he was. Mad things always happened around him. Things were never quite so scary or so wonderful as when he was a part of your day. Craig couldn't believe half the things he said and did. Craig couldn't really rely on him, unless the fate of the planet was at stake. Craig couldn't….Craig couldn't wait to see him again.

**A/N 3: So, I was watching the movie with my brother. And he said, "Look! It's Craig's ancestor." And I said, "Heh. Or it's like Craig got sent back to the 19th Century." And then he looked at me in horror, because he could tell from my face that I'd just gotten a ridiculous idea. Initially, this was supposed to be a lot more humorous, but it ended up leaning more to the serious. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave any happy thoughts or _constructive_ criticisms. Reviews will bring you mercy from Stormageddon: Dark Lord of All.**


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